When the Light Comes Back

Anyone who knows me knows that winter is when I tend to hibernate.
It’s dark. It’s cold. And while winter inspires some, for me it often feels a little bleak — a season of rest more than creation.

I haven’t painted much these last few months. Between the holidays, chilly wet days, and long dark nights, the motivation just wasn’t there. The brushes sat still. The paper stayed blank. And honestly, I let that be okay.

But yesterday, spring peeked through the gray and said hello.

It was 65 degrees.
The sun was out.
The snow had melted.
And the daffodils were pushing up through the cold ground — little yellow reminders that warmth and color always return.

So last night, I painted.

Nothing planned. Nothing precious. No big idea or finished piece in mind. I just played with water and color. I mixed little puddles on the palette. I made swatches and soft gradients. I painted a rainbow just because it felt right. It was less about the result and more about the feeling — reacquainting myself with my brushes, refamiliarizing myself with the flow of water and pigment, remembering how good it feels to simply make something.

It felt like stretching after a long rest. Gentle. Unrushed. Necessary.

I’m hoping to have more to share in the coming weeks. As the temperatures climb and the days grow longer, I’m hoping my desire to create comes back to life, too — slowly, naturally, like those first brave daffodils.

For now, this was enough. Just color. Just water. Just the quiet joy of starting again.